


Man of Many Talents

by LWTIS



Series: SP K2 Week [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: 5 Things, M/M, sp k2 week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWTIS/pseuds/LWTIS
Summary: Kyle was much better at playing House than he was playing Superheroes. But if he had to chose, Kenny preferred him in the role of a boyfriend.Alternatively - Five games they play throughout the years.Written for the SP K2 Week. //Day 1 - Playing.//





	Man of Many Talents

1. 

They inevitably run into the same problem again, playing house.

Plastic teapot clutched in her hands, Karen pauses pouring imaginary tea into the brightly coloured teacups.

“So...who’s going to play the Dad?”

Behind the hood of his parka, Kenny grimaces at the familiar conundrum.  
Since appearance of a playhouse on the renovated playground, Karen’s favourite thing to do was play house. At every spare moment, come snowstorms or rain.  
Usually, Kevin would happily play the Dad each time, giving them both piggyback rides to the playground and entertaining them with fake tales of his youth. He had even procured a battered briefcase from God-knows-where, just big enough to cram all their junk mail in. But nowadays, Kevin had a job, and when he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. And sometimes, talking on the phone to someone with a high pitched voice and the penchant for laughter.  
For once, Kenny finds himself wishing for another sibling to fill this crucial, critical role in his sister’s life.

Before he can suggest anything, there’s a sharp knock on the bright blue door of the playhouse. Without waiting for permission, a very familiar head peers in.

“There you are, Kenny!” Kyle says. He’s a little out of breath, as if he ran all the way to the playground. “Wanna come play basketball?”

His chest tightens with a faint sense of regret, but he shakes his head without hesitation. “I’m playing house with Karen now.”

Kyle’s face twists with disappointment, but he nods, understanding. He is familiar with the elder sibling’s duty, after all. He’s about to close the door when Karen pipes up.

“Do you wanna come join, Kyle?”

Both boys turn to stare at her.

“We need a Dad to play house properly.” she explains, eyes big and hopeful. She presents the teapot with the pride of a french chef. “I made tea, and there’s cake in the oven!”

Kyle looks at the tea set. Drops his gaze to the plastic oven in the corner, its door smeared with the ‘icing’ of the mud cakes inside. At Kenny’s stained, frilly apron, tied over his parka with a haphazard bow. With a determined look, he slips inside the playhouse, taking the seat between the McCormick siblings.

“Good evening, dear.” he says, voice dropping to a gruff, deep imitation of a sitcom father. He reaches up to loosen an imaginary tie around his neck. “Have you filled out the tax return forms, by any chance?”

Kenny’s decidedly unladylike snort is lost to Karen’s delighted laughter.

(In retrospect, that was probably the first time he fell in love.)

 

2.

“The rest of you - return to your stations and prepare for war!”

Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, the Princess of Kupa Keep stares at the King of the Drow Elves - long after the end of his rousing call to arms.  
They hadn't played anything to this grand scale in a long time. Both Cartman's and Kyle's backyards look _incredible_ \- Kenny can't imagine the hoops they must have had to jump through to get their parents on board.  
She takes a moment to glance down at her dress, wriggling her hips just enough to make the skirt swish. Every little reminder feels like a victory - Cartman had learn his lesson. There wasn’t a single protest when Kenny had declared her intentions to be a princess - only a snooty reminder that princesses had to wear dresses. The _fool_.

A golf club taps forcefully against wood as the King distributes orders to his scouts, and Kenny hides a smile.  
Kyle's not a great actor. All his make-believe characters bear the markings of his preferred archetype - same motivation, same pride, same....volume. The lines he comes up with are often a little cliché and sometimes downright cheesy. But he says - shouts - them with such passion, such conviction that Kenny cannot help but get swept along.  
The flash of a familiar orange coat under his crimson robe makes her smile, though. Seems like Kenny is not the only one whose mother refused to let run around South Park in naught but a costume.

As the crowds disperse, The Grand Wizard catches up to her, hat askew.  
“Stay sharp, Princess.” he mutters under his breath. His narrowed gaze finds the New Kid, currently listening intently to whatever the Elf King has to say. “One’s a douchebag traitor and the other is a fucking elf. I fully expect to be betrayed before this is all over.”  
Kenny just hums in response as they walk over to the tree fortress, mind already occupied with plans of her own.

Secretly, she couldn't be more pleased with the arrangement.  
After all, everyone knows the downfall of every powerful king is a beautiful princess.

  
3.

He is pissed off.

Even once back in the Freedom Pals' base, bruises cleaned and carefully soothed with bandaids by one concerned Mrs. Token, Mysterion can’t shake his annoyance. It must show, because soon enough, Toolshed’s hand is on his shoulder.

“We’ll get them next time, dude.” he assures him, eyes determined behind tinted plastic. “There’s no way Cartman can keep this sort of winning streak up for long.”

It’s a good sentiment. But it’s one that both reassures him, right before pissing him back off all over again.  
Stan was right. There was no way Cartman could fulfil his franchise plan successfully, with half of the kids fighting him at every turn, coupled with his own twisted priorities. Sooner or later, his greed was going to derail them all, causing him to crash and burn. Some literal fire was probably going to be involved. It was inevitable.  
He knew this. Stan knew this. They _all_ knew this.  
So then _why_ in good Cthulhu's name did Kyle - _Kyle Breathe-Fatass-And-I-Will-End-You Broflovski_ \- chose Coon and Friends over them?  
He’s known Kyle long enough to be familiar with his occasional tendencies towards unintentional hypocrisy. But this one - his proud, vocal stance for justice and fairness, all whilst standing at _The Coon’s_ side - leaves a bitter, bitter taste in his mouth.

It’s strange. It didn’t sting this much when they wound up on opposing sides whilst playing kings and princesses. It was exciting, even. But this time...    
Perhaps he just doesn’t want to admit that this time, considering their brief partnership as informant and vigilante long before the game began, it feels personal.

Thus, he feels justified in spending the rest of the evening bitching about the awful _, awful_ costume choices of the whole opposing team to an equally grumpy Tweek, who has _opinions_.  
(Secretly, he admits it's kind of cute that _this_ is how Kyle pictures an alien, unbound and unfamiliar to human conventions, to look like.)

  
4.

A collective sigh of relief rushes through the room as soon as Kyle lowers the instrument. He glowers at them in response, cheeks red with effort. Kenny hasn't been this grateful for all the extra padding around his ears for a long, long time. To his left, Butters looks just one high note away from bursting into tears. Stan isn’t faring much better.

“Holy shit.” Cartman breathes. He tentatively lowers his hands.  “I'm pretty sure this falls under the UN’s definition of torture.”

“Fuck you!” the redhead snaps. He moves to dump the trumpet on the table before his tightening grip can cause lasting damage on the brassy exterior.

“I think you should stick to the triangle, dude.” his super best friend offers, voice a weak croak.  

“It was very loud!” Butters adds hurriedly, voice as shaky as his hands.

When the piercing gaze falls on him, Kenny already has his most charming smile ready.

“You’re really good at the fingering?”

“ _I hate all of you_.”

  
5.

“Kenny, how do you play a good boyfriend?”

On his PSP’s screen, Kenny’s character promptly walks off a cliff, falling to their painful, abrupt death. In the real world, the blonde stares at his friend, who eventually averts his gaze, his pencil slipping from his grasp.

“...where...did that come from?”  
  
“Stan.” Kyle offers, as if that explains everything. Sadly, on Day Three of The 'It's Complicated' Incident, it does. “He’s still wracking his brain over what Wendy told him yesterday.”

Kenny nods, still a little stunned. He switches his game off, trying to gather his thoughts as he tucks the PSP away in his pocket. “...and what makes you think I’m the expert on the topic?”

“I just want to hear another opinion. I’ve heard his too many times by now.”

A little evasive. But he lets it slide.

“Well, apart from this?” he croons, waggling his tongue at the redhead until he gets a pencil thrown at his head. “I don’t think there’s like, a set formula. A good boyfriend is...a good listener. Someone who pays attention to what you say, to what you need, and takes that into consideration with their decisions.”

Kyle would make a good boyfriend. The boy was good at almost everything he put his mind to, through talent or sheer stubbornness alone. And did he love _fiercely_.  
It’s not as if this was the first time he entertained this particular train of thought.

“It’s kind of like how different people find different things romantic.” He is rambling now, but there is something in Kyle’s gaze, unusually intent, that makes him want to elaborate. “A good boyfriend won’t get you roses if you’re more of a Venus Flytrap kind of dude, you know what I mean.”

With a snort, the redhead nods.  
And then scoots forward, shifting closer until their knees are touching. From this close proximity, Kenny can confirm that he’s wearing the jeans that resulted in him walking into a telephone pole last month.  
(They’re _unfair_ and his hair, free of the hat, looks so bouncy and soft and Gods, Kenny is a weak, weak soul.)  

“Hey. Kenny.”

“Hmmm?”

“Feel my shirt.”

Slowly, the blonde complies, stroking the other’s arm. He hopes he doesn’t look as creepy as he feels. At his questioning glance, Kyle clears his throat, cheeks pink.

“It’s made of boyfriend material.”

For the second time that day, Kenny is struck speechless.  
And then he’s laughing, hands pressing over cheeks that he knows are flushed red, betraying his flustered delight. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kyle’s smug, smug little smile.  

“Mister Broflovski!” he all but squeaks, efforts to play it cool marginally successful at best. “Was that a _pun? For me_ _?_ ”

The smug smile just grows wider. Hands plant themselves on either side of Kenny’s thighs as the redhead leans into his personal space.

“Am I doing it right by your standards, then?”

There’s just enough hesitance under the teasing tone to lend it weight. Kenny can see the flickers of nervousness in his eyes, in the twitch of his fingers. It makes him melt all over again, a tremble working it way down to his toes.

“Good effort.” he manages, barely hearing his voice above the thumping of his heart. His hands pluck at the collar of his shirt. “I'll have to deduct points for your costume, though. It's terribly unoriginal.”

The shove he gets is entirely understandable.

But the lips pressing against his forehead when he voices his complaints makes it all worthwhile.

\---

AN:

It's K2 Week!! Only Day 1 and I'm already blown away by all the submissions. Please check out all the [main blog on Tumblr](https://k2-week.tumblr.com/) and also the [tag!](https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/sp-k2-week) 

Speaking of, I made a side blog for my writing - for WIPs, fic recs and to reblog all the gorgeous fanarts. [Hit me up!](https://lwtis.tumblr.com/)


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